On The Wings Of Love
by Juliet'sEmoPhase
Summary: Harry is on the run when he finds a mysterious tower in the forest which he climbs with the aid of a rope made of hair. Fairy tale/Rapunzel AU featuring Veela!Draco. No smut.


Author's note 17-08-16: So I was feeling bad that I wouldn't be releasing anything new for my lovely Wattpad followers, as my long fic is on hiatus, and thought maybe I could give them an old fic from here or AO3. I was torn between my two Creature!Draco fairy tales 'Draco Dormiens' and 'Breath Of Life', when I figured I could quickly write a third story, and start a little anthology. So that's what I've done.

Also, it seemed like a nice excuse to write something fluffy for my good friend Katy (enigmaticrose4/aroseindaegu) who had her birthday recently, and has also been going through a tough time lately. Hugs to you darling xxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On The Wings Of Love

How Harry got himself into these situations, he still wasn't sure. He pelted through the forest, branches whipping at his face as the hounds barked and snapped at his feet. "Hey!" he hissed behind his shoulder. "Look no hard feelings, okay? I was just _sleeping_ in that barn! I wasn't looking for trouble!"

The dogs seemed less than sympathetic to his pleas though, their teeth glinting in the afternoon sunshine as they salivated.

"I'm not that tasty, I assure you!" Harry went on, charging up a rise and swinging from a low hanging branch over a log. He was too skinny to look appetising, he was certain, but these dogs probably loved gnawing on a juicy bone.

He darted through bushes and around trees, hoping to find some way to escape the angry beasts. He wouldn't mind, but he really hadn't been stealing anything this time, he had just wanted a night's rest somewhere a little more hospitable than the open ground. But of course the young maiden that had found him had questioned his virtue with a blistering scream before Harry had time to assure her she had nothing to fear, and decided it best to run for it rather than stick around to offer an explanation, risking the sword of her no-doubt enraged father.

Up ahead, a solitary tower loomed, which was an odd site for several reasons. There was no town nearby, Harry knew this as he had counted himself lucky to stumble upon the farmhouse. And if it was a small castle, surely there should have been more turrets?

He had to admit though, all he cared about was the fact that is rose from the ground. If he could get inside and bar the door, he could maybe loose his hungry entourage.

The dogs were still a dozen of so feet behind him, but his chance came to increase his lead when a small stream cut across his path. The water was fast, but he was larger than his four-legged friends and was able to hurtle across in next to no time. They though would have to swim, giving him a precious extra few minutes.

He sprinted towards the tower, his boots squelching but his spirits raised. As the foliage cleared he could see a single door at the base of the structure, and he lurched for the handle. It was locked, and picking it would take time he didn't have, so he decided to risk a few moments to try a direct approach.

"Hello there!" he cried out, pounding his fist against the wood. "Anyone home? I'm in a bit of a pickle and could use some help!" He turned around to peer through the greenery, and could just about make out the dogs still struggling across the water, but he didn't have long before they were free again. "Blast," he huffed, and pulled two thin bits of metal from his tunic pocket, hoping he hadn't made himself become dinner by wasting time asking for help.

Before he could attack the lock though, he was startled by a rope falling down in front of his face. He jumped back, and saw it had come from the only window, all the way at the top of the tower. "Climb up!" a voice called.

Another glance back to the stream told Harry the first of the beasts were just clear of the water, and he decided it was worth the risk of falling if only to get off the ground for now.

He grabbed the rope – and almost slipped back off again. It was like no rope he had ever encountered before, more like silk than the usual course fibres, and now he was looking at it, he could see it was not spun into one single line, but plaited. It gave a small jiggle as he inspected it.

"Come on!" the voice floated down.

Harry decided not to question his escape route any further, and wrapped his hand around the plait to get a better grip. The owner of the rope responded by hauling him up, so in mere moments he had scaled several feet. A good thing too, as the first of the hounds finally reached the tower, and jumped up to try and bite as his heels. He was already too high though, and he grinned down in triumph. "Sorry boys," he gloated. "You shall have to find your supper elsewhere!"

Gradually, he made his way up to the window, his feet walking up the wall and his hands moving up the rope, careful not to slip again, otherwise the snapping dogs would be the least of his troubles. "Are you nearly there?" called the voice of his mysterious rescuer.

"Yes, almost!" Harry responded cheerfully.

It was with great relief that he grasped the lip of the window sill, and with a final grunt of effort, pulled himself through the opening and tumbled to the floor. He shook himself and sat upright, wishing to thank his new friend. Then stopped in surprise.

Before him stood a young man of what looked like his own age. He was dressed simply in a white cloth, draped over one shoulder and collected into a short skirt at his waist. His skin was creamy like milk, dazzling even in the gloom of the room, and his face as beautiful as any prince Harry had ever seen. But that was not what had given him pause. For the man had golden white hair, shining in the small amount of light coming from the window. It had been pulled behind his head into a plait…a plait that carried on and on until it finished in Harry's own hands.

"Did I just climb up your _hair?"_ he asked, utterly perplexed. He had never seen such a thing in his whole life.

The young man smiled shyly. "It seemed like the best idea, considering you were in trouble. I – I watched you run from the dogs from afar, and did not wish for you to be eaten."

"Nor I," Harry agreed, and got to his feet, brushing his hands and marvelling at the man's gorgeous hair once more. "Is that how you usually let your visitors in?"

The man smiled again, but this time it was with sadness, and Harry's heart gave a twinge of pain. Surely someone so beautiful could not be unhappy?

"I do not have many visitors other than my master, and he has the only key to the lock." He looked at Harry with eyes he could now see were a brilliant silver, and a shiver ran up Harry's spine. He was starting to think his lovely new companion was not entirely human. "He only comes once a week to leave food and collects his wears. He does not speak much to me, other than to call me his pretty bird."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "Your master?" he asked. "Are you a prisoner here?"

The man moved closer, and looked out the window. The view of the kingdom was quite magnificent from here, and Harry took it in with him. "I am Veela, do you know what that is?" Harry shook his head, and the man picked his long plait up in his hands. "Our hair contains potent magic, and until we are Unfurled, grows extraordinarily fast. My master stole me as a babe from my parents, to keep me from transitioning, and sells my hair for great profit." He turned to Harry, and tried to smile, but could not quite manage it. "I fear I shall never become a true Veela, and will remain here all my days."

Harry blinked. "But that's awful," he cried. "Why don't you escape?"

"As long as I am still Furled, I am cursed to stay within these walls," he said, then seemed to rally his spirits. "But enough of my woes, stranger. I do not wish to burden you. When the danger has passed, I will help lower you back down again. Until them, may I ask your name?"

"Your woes are no burden to me," Harry assured him. "You may call me Harry, and in return I would ask the favour of your name, and the details of this curse. Surely there must be a way to break it?"

The man smiled, genuinely this time, and turned back into the room. It was sparsely furnished, with a straw bed for sleeping, the table and chairs that they now moved to sit at, and a small stove for cooking. One wall was lined with books, and Harry was relieved to see the man's master had not been so cruel as to deny him that luxury.

"It is good to meet you Harry," the man said. "My name is Draco. And yes, I discovered the curse's undoing many years ago, but sadly it has done me no good thus far."

Harry felt a thrill of hope. He had never been so enchanted to meet anyone in his whole life, and if he could free this man and become better acquainted with him, he surely could not be happier. "Do tell," he urged, pulling his chair closer to where Draco sat. "Perhaps I can help you?"

Draco looked at his hands in his lap. "Alas," he said. "Only love's first kiss can set me free. It is how my people Unfurl and become true Veela. Then, I could escape this life." He looked up at Harry, and laughed. It was one of the most beautiful sounds Harry had ever heard, like a song straight to his heart. "Unfortunately, the adventures who have scaled these walls before were disappointed not to find a female, and were disinclined to help me."

"Oh," said Harry, thinking what fools they must have been.

"I bear them no ill will," Draco said quickly, silver eyes full of concern. "Love cannot be forced. I just wish one day I might be lucky, and the right kind of adventurer might come to call."

He blushed, and turned his face from Harry. "You wish for a female also – a girl?" he asked, hope fading.

Draco looked to the window wistfully. "No," he said. "I would very much prefer a male, but such a thing is rare. I would be extremely fortunate indeed to find love, even were I not confined to this tower."

Harry's heart raced once more, and reached out to take Draco's hand. "And all it takes is one kiss? The first of a new love?"

Draco considered him, surprise lining his features. "Yes," he said softly.

Harry moved to kneel before him. Perhaps he was being reckless, he had only just met the man after all. Buthe had never felt like this before, so strongly and so suddenly. He had heard of love at first sight, why shouldn't it happen to him? "May I?" he asked gently.

Confusion marred Draco's brow, until it smoothed into happiness. "Of course," he whispered back.

Harry leaned forwards, and carefully pressed his lips to Draco's. They were cool, and soft as satin, but as soon as they touched a warmth burst to life, and he jumped back in shock.

Draco, likewise, shot to his feet, staring at his hands in awe. His pale skin was glowing, and he began to laugh. Not the sound blemished by hope that had still managed to fill Harry with joy, but an honest, wonderful laugh of freedom. "It is working!" Draco cried, tears in his eyes.

Harry didn't know what he could feel, but clearly he was changing into a fully grown Veela, and he too leapt to his feet in delight. And then he could see why the process was called 'unfurling'.

Wings, fluffy as a newborn chick and white as pure snow, were revealing themselves from his back, until they spanned half the room in their mightiness. "I thought you beautiful before," Harry said, his voice trembling. "But now you are truly an angel."

Gradually, the glow vanished from his skin, but Draco still smiled as if he had not been so happy in all his years. "You have freed me Harry. Can it be, do you in fact love me?"

Harry laughed. "As far as I can know, I think I do. Is that madness?"

"Only if loving you too is madness," Draco said, and stepped forward to embrace Harry.

Their first kiss and been sweet and chaste, cut short by the Unfurling and dismantling of the curse. But this kiss set Harry's heart of fire, and he took Draco in his arms, feeling his wings envelope him protectively. "Now shall you leave this prison?" he asked, and Draco squeezed him tightly.

"Gladly," he said. "But first."

He went to the stove, where a knife lay nearby. He offered Harry the hilt. "Do you wish to do the honours?" he asked, holding up where the plait of his hair began. "I long to be free of this weight, and I think we could get a pretty price for it at the market."

Harry beamed at him. "Fair money," he said, light with the thought of not stealing for once. "To start our life together."

"Indeed," Draco said.

The blade cut through the hair smoothly, like it was no more than water, and Draco sighed contentedly as he shook his remaining locks happily. They coiled the plait into a basket, ready to depart, and Draco opened up his arms.

"Come here, my love," he said, pulling Harry safely to his side. "So we may find out what freedom really feels like."

He beat his impressive wings once, lifting them from the ground. Harry nuzzled into Draco's neck, feeling the warmth of his body and the power running through his veins. "Let us fly," he said, as they left the prison tower behind, heading into the sunset, ready to begin their future lives, together.

The End


End file.
